


Discernible Patterns

by creepy_shetan



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Community: comment_fic, M/M, Magic and Science
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-02-03 22:46:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1758851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creepy_shetan/pseuds/creepy_shetan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometime along the way, Clint has actually gotten used to Loki dropping by to share with him the hows and whys of his latest acts of mischief. This time is different, however, and not just because of the universal scale of what he's done.</p><p>(Originally posted 2014/3/16 as a fill for a prompt.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Discernible Patterns

**Author's Note:**

  * For [icarus_chained](https://archiveofourown.org/users/icarus_chained/gifts).



“Loki, what did you do?”

Clint didn’t look up from his computer. He needn’t have bothered anyway, as his suspicions were confirmed soon after by a long sigh behind him.

“Could you at least _pretend_ to be surprised to see me, Agent Barton? You’re causing my clandestine excursions from Asgard to lose their flavor.”

“Good. Maybe some blandness will get you to understand that the timing of your visits is getting predictable.”

Loki entered Clint’s peripheral vision. He half-sat, half-leaned on the desk, his long legs stretched out to the left of Clint’s chair, and leaned sideways to glance at the laptop screen.

“Ah. So your terse greeting was a legitimate question after all.”

In the span of four seconds, a number of reactions passed over Clint before his body language settled on one clear statement: leaning back in his chair, elbows resting on the armrests, one hand supporting his tilted head at his temple, his face flat except for brightly shining eyes in the computer’s harsh blue light, Clint exuded the very definition of patience worn thin.

“...Go ahead. We’ve already received reports about dozens of scientists losing their shit in the past two days, but I want to hear you confess in your own words.”

Staring at Clint, Loki reached over to shut the laptop. He smiled as the more flattering lighting in the room that emitted from the nearby lamp dulled the severity of Clint’s expression, which hadn’t shifted in the least. Loki took a moment to appreciate the warm glow to Clint’s features, despite knowing full well that the softness was merely an illusion.

“I may have relocated a few cosmic bodies here and there. It’s really not as difficult as it sounds. At least, not by my standards.”

But for a slight narrowing of his eyes, Clint remained very still. He and Loki had been through this dance enough times for him to know that there is always a reason for Loki’s actions. It usually wasn’t a _good_ reason, but each made sense in a very peculiar, yet very Loki kind of way. Sure, sometimes Clint got the feeling he was a profiler for a psychopath, but other times he felt like a therapist for a foster child. He had learned to show interest (plus some indignation but not too much judgment) and let Loki talk freely. Rather than ask a lot of questions, Clint now waited for Loki to continue because he knew the reason why was just as important to Loki as getting credit for his handiwork.

That was all good and well in theory, however on this particular evening, Loki had decided not to be as loquacious as usual. Clint’s inner profiler did not like the change in MO one bit, but the therapist in him was intrigued. Despite his claim of it being relatively easy to accomplish (for him), Loki must have been especially proud to pull off this latest stunt. 

To Clint, it basically meant that Loki was willing to do anything in the name of mischief, even if it involved breaking the universe or sacrificing a galaxy or whatever it took to rearrange stars, and the thrill of a challenge made it especially hard to resist. The profiler in him checkmarked “escalating behavior,” while the therapist underlined “attention-seeking behavior” yet again.

He knew it wasn’t the question that Loki wanted him to ask, but Clint went for it anyway.

“Do you know how to put them back?”

Loki crossed his arms (a defensive posture, Clint noted) and appeared offended.

“Of course I do.”

“Are you _able_ to put them back?”

“Yes, I am _able_ ,” he practically hissed through his teeth.

“Okay, good,” Clint said lightly, his posture now one of keen interest. Loki seemed taken aback by the sudden change, his arms unconsciously loosening as Clint continued to speak until they rested at his sides again. “So tell me why you did it. Did something happen in Asgardian prison?”

Loki was definitely confused now, if the curve of his eyebrows and of his lips were to be believed.

“Not... particularly.”

Clint leaned forward, his right elbow transferred to the edge of the desk as he swiveled his chair a little toward Loki but not his feet. With chin in hand, he pondered over his next question.

“Did another world or realm or whatever piss you off?”

Another slow and careful answer from the alien god prince: “Not recently.”

“Were you just bored then?”

Loki shifted backward until he was sitting on the corner of the desk properly, the tips of his boots still touching the carpet.

“The idea may have grown with boredom, but it did not sprout from it.”

Clint smirked a little at both the movement and the reply, knowing that he was getting closer to the truth. Unfortunately, compared to past experiences, the fact that Clint had to press Loki for information through a game of (what he hoped wouldn’t turn out to be) Twenty Questions was throwing a wrench into their post-alien-invasion dynamic up to this point. The slow pace was both frustrating and necessary in this case. If this continued for much longer, then Clint would explode; on the other hand, if Clint rushed it, Loki would explode. Needless to say, the latter was the greater evil to avoid.

“Loki, how did you decide to move entire constellations around the universe?”

“Well... The last time I was here in Midgard, I stopped by that coffee shop. Do you remember?”

Clint nodded. “I remember you leaving hot coffee all around my apartment. I still don’t know how you paid for that... or knew my usual order.”

“That’s not important,” Loki dismissed the tangent with a wave, “What _is_ important is that while I waited, I did a little light reading of a periodical distributed there. One page in particular caught my eye.”

Neither the profiler nor the therapist in Clint had a good feeling about this, but somehow his mouth managed to ask what was needed to be asked without their help.

“Which page was it?”

“One containing something called _‘horoscopes’_. It wasn’t so much insightful as inspiring.” 

Clint was finally beginning to see where this was going, and he wanted it to stop before the picture cleared too much. Loki had suddenly decided however to become talkative again, like he needed a warm-up before a quick and mostly incoherent sprint to the finish. Clint was able to follow bits and pieces of the next minute or so, watching as Loki lost any sign of reservation in his voice and certain that he himself was inversely gaining signs of bewilderment in his face.

“...I’m familiar with many forms of fortune-telling, but not that particular one... Most are horribly inaccurate, of course, but... Did a little quick math, and... I found your birthdate in... back in Asgard, I... Midgardian astronomy... translated the coordinates... light from dead stars... black holes... always a spell for these things... tricky at first but... more spell books hidden in... and that’s how I did it.”

Clint shook his head. He didn’t think any explanation could be worse than when Stark and Banner got together to make everyone else look like idiots, but apparently Loki was capable of upstaging even them, simply by mixing the logistics of magic into all the math and science that should contradict its existence. Theoretically. Maybe. The only part Clint could be certain of was that it was a hell of a lot of work for the bragging rights and the adrenaline high gained from one measly prank.

“...Uh, Loki? Can you--“

“--Are you _still_ not impressed?” Loki interrupted with a bite to his voice. 

When he jumped up from his perch and began to pace, Clint could practically see the fuse he’d inadvertently lit in Loki. (Both the profiler and the therapist forgot about “approval-seeking behavior,” Clint realized too late.) Perhaps going the slow and safe route had been frustrating for Loki, too, but did he really expect Clint to understand everything thrown at him during that manic minute?

“Loki, that’s not... Wait. What you did was impressive. I’m impressed. I just have one last question.”

Loki stopped to look at Clint, visibly deflating at the words.

“...All right.”

“Could you repeat your reason for doing it in, let’s say, under ten words?”

Loki stalked back to where Clint still sat and stared down at him. He let the awkwardness grow in the silence before he kicked the bottom of Clint’s chair, causing it to roll away from the desk. Clint jumped a little when the back crashed into the nearest wall and Loki suddenly loomed over him.

“What the--“

“--I did it for you, Agent Barton. You idiot.” 

Nine words. He could have stopped at five, but no, Loki had to push limits. 

Before Clint could react, he found himself sharing more than air with Loki. How could the profiler and the therapist in him miss the tendency for grand symbolic gestures? Loki knew astrology was crap but he did it anyway. Clint threw out the mental notes as he pulled Loki closer, thinking it was a good thing he was in a different line of work because this was a blatant ethical violation and quickly becoming a conflict of interest.

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt: Author's choice, author's choice, "... The signs weren't favourable for our romance, so you decided to _rearrange the heavens_?!?"  
>  The theme: Horoscopes  
> Originally posted [here](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/463154.html?thread=71599922#t71599922).  
> I only own the writing.
> 
> For the curious... I wrote almost all of this before _Thor: TDW_ was released, and then did nothing with it for six months, ahaha... ha.


End file.
